


A Brief Expenditure To a Planet Called Balot

by sweetindulgence (sweetdefault)



Series: Yautja Tales [6]
Category: Predator Original Series (1987-1990)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Anal Sex, Complete, Consentacles, Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Egg Laying, F/M, Fisting, I think the last two tags apply because these two are IN IT TO WIN IT, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Painful Sex, Plant Biology, Plant sex, Plants, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, Tentacles, Threesome - F/M/M, also stamen appendages are kind of tentacle y, everyone is horny, references to In Arms Reach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetdefault/pseuds/sweetindulgence
Summary: The mating season is ongoing and one Yautja's partner is away for a long Hunt. In an effort to find relief, the hunter travels to the planet Balot where a flora-like alien may provide just what he needs to soothe himself.
Relationships: Yautja (Predator)/Original Character(s), Yautja (Predator)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Yautja Tales [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773715
Comments: 23
Kudos: 45





	1. first meeting

**Author's Note:**

> return of the tough bi guy from In Arms Reach  
> featuring lovely and slightly overenthusiastic plant lady who has some plant-y biology going on
> 
> edit: this is now a short multi-fic chapter  
> why do all the one-shots I write turn out this way  
> ?????

Z’skuy’thwei is a man with curiosity equivalent a cat. He knows his pursuits are not _quite_ acceptable in the social circles of his clan, but he does not care for most Yautja in his clan to start with. He is a man of simple pleasures, a man easily satiated by the comings and goings of life. It is of no surprise he does not bide by his clan leader’s suggestion to stay _far away_ from breeding other species. It may not be dishonorable, but many Yautja detest the idea of cross-species copulation.

He is not ‘many’ Yautja.

His mate is out on a hunt spanning multiple star systems millions of light years away. Kwei-nan’ku was apologetic, but only to an extent, as the Hunt demanding his attention was one even Z’skuy’thwei considers _worthy_ of skipping sex over. With his mate away, and M-di-Guan-Luar-ke and her handsome ooman companion unavailable—strange, that, Luar-ke is _especially_ occupied this season, not even responding to his transmissions to discuss casual weaponry or clan politics—Z’skuy’thwei normally sticks to his hands and the recordings his mate and him keep tucked away in the two’s primary ship.

But with the Hunt taking Kwei-nan’ku months, his mate has not only given him permission but _encouraged_ him to seek out relief from others.

 _Permission._ The hulking, seven-foot-six Yautja hunter draws his mandibles taut over his inner jaws. He stalks out of his bedchamber, grabs his bio-mask, and marches to the cockpit of his ship. The beautiful ship is a speedcraft, built off an old model his clan once possessed called the _Echinos_ , but that is where Z’skuy’thwei’s knowledge of the craft ends. He doesn’t care for the history of his ship besides what is necessary to maintain it.

 _Balot… The land of nectarine forests and dancing leaves._ The Yautja contemplates his destination with a furrow of hairless brows, void of the nub-like quills growing out of the sides of his head and across his chest. He dons minimum of armor; the Berserker’s hulking muscles a sign of his strength and prowess. He doubts anyone on _Balot_ possesses the nerve to challenge a _kv’var-de_ of his status.

Briefly, Z’skuy’thwei contemplates whether _Balot_ will have what he needs.

He desires a companion capable of physically accommodating his form when he claims them. As an honorable warrior, he seeks one who is not simply a body to _pauk_ but a mind willing and _wanting,_ someone desperately craving the same carnal pleasures as himself. Man or woman, or perhaps something _beyond_ either of those, gender doesn’t matter to Z’skuy’thwei. The intense connection an individual can form with another through intercourse is part of why sex is so great for him, bringing a euphoria very little of the universe can compare to.

 _No. Balot will. It will! It is… a planet of beauty. The gods bless it with prey and ripe nourishment. Bountiful harvests. Plains of great animals and intricate landscapes._ The Yautja sits in the pilot’s chair in the cockpit leans back. He shuts his eyes and exhales. _I will find someone there. I am sure of it._

* * *

He finds prey in the open-air markets beneath _Balot_ ’s grandiose green skies. There, surrounded by a collection of colorfully decorated stalls and bustling market attendees, Z’skuy’thwei catches a whiff of _ambrosia_ ; tt sets his four hearts pounding _wildly_ in his chest as he silently marches past vendors calling for him and his credits. He traces the tantalizing aroma—flowery, in a way, yet carrying a note of something _desperate_ —to the farthest edge of the market. Billowing yellow and blue clouds roll and stretch overhead while the _kv’var-de_ ’s eyes narrow.

Before his eyes, tucked away from the main street and looking around with worry, is a short _Mandrygaia_ , a plant-like extraterrestrial with a sentience on par with himself. Perhaps the Mandrygaia species is not as _advanced_ as the Yautja scattered among the stars, but Mandrygaia are full of woefully brilliant brings who specialize in alien flora and engage in riveting religious rites. Notably, they worship some of the same gods found in most Yautja clans, including the _Payas_ domineering fertility and agriculture.

This Mandrygaia is a lady, shorter than him at a measly five-one, with intense green leaves shadowing her tubular, root-like body and hiding what has drawn him to her side. Z’skuy’thwei growls deeply, a husky note of intent _clear_ in his voice. He stalks forward and circles his chosen quarry once before settling in front of her and waiting for a response.

 _“Hello,”_ the voice of the Mandrygaia is hollower than he expects, as if the body the voice trails from is carved out on the inside. _“You are… You are one of the Hunters. A Hunter blessed by the gods?”_

“Sei-i. Do you speak the primary Yautja tongue?” Z’skuy’thwei trills impatiently. He believes he knows the aroma she gives off. It is a mating musk, but not in the traditional sense, as Mandrygaias possess unconventional fertilization cycles and reproduction methods. Mating one is not how Z’skuy’thwei typically acts in a bedchamber, but his body is slowly warming in the Mandrygaia’s proximity. He wants her. He wants to try taking one of her kind, to find release, and to build up to the glorious, vulnerable intimacy of intercourse. 

_“I do not speak it, but I understand your words,”_ the Mandrygaia wrings a leaf between two twisting, knotted finger-like protrusions, coming from beyond the coat of leaves obfuscating her figure. She has no eyes, but blossoming flowers across her ‘head’ twitch and trail Z’skuy’thwei’s figure as he shudders. _“I am Nalis, blessed Hunter.”_

“Z’skuy’thwei.” He doesn’t hesitate to click and trill each of the rough, ruthless syllables of his name. “You expect any sirer to walk this path and find you? S’yuit-de. Fool.”

 _“A fool doesn’t seek another fool,”_ Nalis bows her head, leaves shifting like hair falling off her. _“You are not a fool, hunter.”_

“I’m not. You want the help of an honorable warrior? Sei-i?” Z’skuy’thwei grits his teeth.

 _“A sirer, hunter. I need a sirer,”_ her hand has three extenders, each laden with disgustingly sharp thorns protruding like claws. She reaches for him; he clicks in warning but does not push her away when her hand touches his torso. _“A sirer to fertilize and plant my seeds. Can you aid me, blessed Hunter?”_

“Nalis.” The name is hard on his tongue. His mandibles twitch; Z’skuy’thwei considers his options. He ignores the fire building in his groin when Nalis drags her thorn-tipped fingers across his muscles. “I am a Hunter in heat. Relief is my quarry. If I assist you—You will assist me in return.”

If a plant could perk up, the Mandrygaia would. She has no eyes, but her form twitches and her head nods behind the curtain of leaves shielding her face. _“I would be honored to fornicate with a blessed Hunter, by one chosen of the gods! Please, allow me the privilege of bringing you fulfillment. All I ask is your cooperation in fertilizing and planting my seeds.”_

“This is casual, Nalis. Nothing more than pleasure,” the hunter makes his conditions clear. “Where are your living quarters?”

He is _not_ bringing the Mandrygaia unto his ship.

 _“We live in the jungle, a large village at the base of trees.”_ Nalis gestures t the side, at the treeline indicating the start to one of Balot’s most infested forests. Memories of leeches and nasty flies buzzing about fill Z’skuy’thwei’s head.

Z’skuy’thwei grimaces. He's bringing her onboard after all.

* * *

_“Beautiful,”_ the alien comments as she examines the ramp descending from his and Kwei-nan’ku’s personal spacecraft. The Mandrygaia, though initially hesitant, soon becomes eager to ascend the chromatic steps leading into his craft. It is strange for Z’skuy to witness, seeing such a _plant_ like entity move with the grace and zeal of organic races.

The hollow voice of the Mandrygaia continues singing and echoing through the air even after she disappears into the ship. Z’skuy follows her in, stopping only to input the command to shut the craft and reactivate cloaking. He watches his guest, his _temporary_ mate, run to different rooms and examine everything.

 _Less bashful now than before._ Z’skuy holds in the growl. He needs _predictability_ in his life, to a degree. He knows what he has agreed to, the ways of which an organic creature may assist a Mandrygaia in the fertilization cycle, but even with the foresight to prepare on the trip to _Balot_ , Z’skuy feels strangely tense. He knows it is not from Kwei-nan’ku’s absence, not _this_ kind of tension. He realizes with a growing, snarling blush that he has not engaged with someone _this_ way in… In what could be well over a hundred cycles.

The tension exists for good reason. Mandrygaia mating sessions are physically intense, just what _he_ needs to lose the goddamn heat pervading his mind with sinful thoughts of Luar-ke’s tight slit, or her ooman companion’s equally clenching sphincter. As if his body can read his mind, blood pools in the Yautja's groin. Z’skuy exhales and acknowledges the arousal. He begins to unsheathe, the physical acting tearing a deep rumble of need from his throat.

He joins the Mandrygaia in his bedchamber. Nalis is already stripped of her clothes—all made from plants, no surprise—but her vivacious leaves conceal what he wants and needs. He knows a Mandrygaia’s anatomy is not in line _exactly_ with a Yautja or ooman, but things can work. Nilas tilts her head to one side, heavy green leaves falling cover half of her face as her bark-like skin carries a glow of joy.

As she _should,_ given she has the honor of receiving _his_ semen to fertilize her seeds.

 _“By all the Gods, new and old, thank you, bless you, I praise your name for this opportunity..."_ the Mandrygaia begins praying while Z’skuy’thwei busies himself unclasping pieces of armors, putting away weapons, and eventually stripping himself of his thermal mesh.

His crimson scales ripple from the muscles underneath as he frees himself of his bio-mask, only to growl deeply and put it back on in realization he needs the translation software. He winces as the mask sensors plunge through his flesh and connect to his nerves. He flexes his muscles and begins pumping his cock, building up the erection to a hard, throbbing pole. The barbs of his blood red cock are stiff and ready to aid in penetration. Z'skuy is ready to mate.

The man looks at Nalis, who is still in prayer. _Devoted._

Nalis whistles a series of notes when she completes her prayer. She lays her intricate body across the pelts of his bed. The flora-like entity runs 'hands' up and down swollen mucilage glands, each glistening at the tips of the bulbous lumps. These bumps are in the dozens across the Mandrygaia’s body, notably gathered around her pelvis, but several run down her thighs and climb her abdomen. Each gland is as swollen as the last. Several are erect and remind Z’skuy’thwei vaguely of mammalian glands of Yautja bearers, though Z’skuy’thwei knows no milk will come from the glands. Still, he reaches for a large one and pinches it. Nalis sings a song of ecstasy while Z’skuy’thwei kneads and rolls the lump between his fingers. His other hand probes more of the glands, making several excrete a sticky substance across the scale-covered flesh in the process.

 _“Oh, Hunter, blessed Hunter, bless you! Bless me! Ah, oh, please, I beg, bless me as you have been blessed by the Gods!”_ The Mandrygaia comes alive under his caresses. Z’skuy’thwei’s pride spikes and he growls loudly, this time squeezing one bump hard enough to make the sticky fluid squirt in a spray of clear liquid. It lands on his chest and arms. Z’skuy’thwei huffs and wipes it off on the Mandrygaia beneath him. He is careful not to be too rough with her, not _yet_ , reminding himself a Mandrygaia is not quite as sturdy as the trees on _Balot._

At the Mandrygaia’s pelvis is a hollow dipping between her many legs; it is much like what Z'skuy has seen on trees and similar flora in the past, and it dips out of sight into her body. Z’skuy’thwei breathes in the sweet, delicious nectar Mandrygaia are known for compiling during their mating season. He reaches for it, no hesitation before he shoves his hand inside and fists the alien. The Mandrygaia is not very flexible, but the hole has enough bend to not rip or crack as he reaches inside and feels for the source of the nectar. She buckles beneath his touch, helplessly melting into the pleasure his rough, clawed fingers scour and dig into her depths. He thrusts his hand as far as it can go, to the point the Mandrygaia whines and arches her back in submission. Her many legs tremble wickedly. Z’skuy’thwei hisses when his hand makes contact with the substance deep inside. He feels the plant-like entity writhe beneath him as he roughly claws the nectar out.

He shoves his hand beneath the bottom of his mask to taste it, his long tongue snaking forward to bring it back to his inner jaws. _Divine!_

Mandrygaia are disgustingly glorious creatures, as succulent as a succulent in flavor. To find one so sweet, so damn subservient overwhelms the Yautja with the need to claim her before another does. Z’skuy’thwei shoves his fist back inside. He gorges on the substance the Mandrygaia produces while she shudders and cries aloud in ecstasy. The Mandrygaia’s body twists and writhes around his touch as he digs through the hollow, easily forcing his fist deep enough to scrape every point of pleasure she possesses inside. It becomes a frenzy to consume the nectar. Z'skuy'thwei roars as begins vigorously pumping his hand in and out of the nectar canal, twisting it in such a way Nalis shrieks and clutches him with thorn-tipped fingers. He cannot get enough of her, taking every last drop until all he tastes is her sweet nectar. The only thing he hears is his ragged breathing and her pants. Nectar stains his mask and muscles; he doesn't care. 

He needs more.

His stomach is full and slightly bloated by the time he finishes feeding. He is beyond erect now, his cock throbbing wildly against the Mandrygaia’s lower abdomen. Z’skuy’thwei begins to rock his hips against Nalis as he imagines how the rest of the night cycle will proceed. His entire body burns to seed the Mandrygaia, but he knows this form o mating is a time-consuming process. He must be patient.

Nalis shudders and heaves when the Yautja finally wrenches his fist out of her hollow. She spasms and the flowers of her face sway lazily, as if in an ecstatic stupor. The Mandrygaia parts her many leaves and bashfully pushes aside leaves until her lower half is exposed to the hunter's predatory gaze. Z'skuy'thwei rumbles with approval at the the mess of nectar strewn about Nalis' entrance. He runs a hand down her thick thorax, as covered in rough, bark-like texture as the rest of her 'skin'. He is too distracted by the scents wafting from her body to pay attention whether or not she reacts to him grabbing and kneading her thorax.

“Your kind—You have a… Where do I put it in?” The Elite clicks in growing frustration. He knows he does not penetrate a Mandrygaia’s nectar canal, as such a place is reserved for the production—and his excavation—of the delicious substance. He does not want an infection riding his dick from nectar shooting up his urethra. Kwei-nan'ku would never let him live it down, and his reputation as one of Gahn'tha-cte's surviving Elites would be ruined. Z'skuy'thwei shudders at the disgraceful thought.

 _“The pistil,”_ Nalis is quick to direct him. She exhales through a mouth lacking teeth, then begins to groan as if in pain. Her legs spread wide and her pelvis twitches and bucks. At the same hole—though he can tell it is nowhere near as deep as his hand went before—the Yautja watches a protrusion expand and begin to emerge from the nectar canal. A long, slender appendage, with multiple lines indicating a slit at the tip of the oblong phallange, rises. 

It is _not_ a dick, but it is sensitive as one. Z’skuy’thwei growls with satisfaction when he grabs the length of the pistil and strokes it. Nalis keens and thanks him, blurting out holy prayers and blessing him again and again. The Yautja feels his cock _burn_. He ignores the leaves of Nalis’ lower legs scratching him as he rubs himself against the end of the pistil. Nalis whimpers thrusts the pistil at his cock, failing multiple times to push him through her slit. 

Z'skuy'thwei groans at the contact. The pistil does not feel organic like _flesh_ , but the plant-like tissues are spongy enough to satisfy him. Z’skuy’thwei hisses, “You are desperate to be seeded, Nalis. Desperate to _pauk_ —To breed—"

“ _Oh, Hunter—I need you—Ah, ah! Ah! Hunter, please—!”_ What begins as pleasurable pleads becomes strained breathing.

The pistil’s sticky surface coats Z’skuy’thwei’s barbed cock like lubricant, but his girth is still large enough to stretch the tissues of the pistil to full capacity when he pierces her. The Mandrygaia arches her back and claws at him. She finds purchase digging sharp thorn-like claws into the flesh of his chest, drawing blood and spurring Z’skuy’thwei to have her _now_. He thrusts forward in vigor and rams the head of his cock against the wall inside, too engulfed in pleasure to recognize it as an internal stigma.

The sticky wall is normally outside on flora, but in the Mandrygaia it acts as a place to receive and filter through the proteins needed to complete fertilization. Now, it becomes a target for him to batter into. Z’skuy’thwei’s chest heaves as he pounds the alien into the bed of pelts, roaring in dominance with each crashing of hips. Nilas cries aloud and clutches him. Her noises are almost unnoticeable by the pleasure raking Z’skuy’thwei’s body. Part of his mind makes out her begging him for more, repeating the phrase _Oh blessed Hunter_ and the word _please_ one too many times, as Nalis is fucked against the pelts. Her body bounces and shakes from how hard he smacks into her, driving the barbed shaft as deep as it can go and burying it to the hilt multiple times.

Occasionally his penis' barbs dig into the internal stigma’s surface. That is when pleasure seeps the most, when Z'skuy'thwei bellows and arches his back with a growing submission but equal parts triumph at having the Mandrygaia for himself. Nalis grabs at him again, tearing and pulling his hair, dragging his masked face down to her eyeless one, whispering sweet praises and songs of submission as she takes him up a cliff of climax in a desperate union of the two species.

Z’skuy’thwei bottoms out in the Mandrygaia and orgasms with a furious set of jabs into her internal stigma. He fucks her through the crash of pleasure until the barbs of his cock dig into stigma and hold him in place. It is only temporary; Z'skuy'thwei howls and gruns as he ejaculates, soon rolling his hips to free his cock and thrust back inside the _pistil_. The swelling bulge at the base of his cock grows in size until he struggles to shove it inside of the pistil. The man holds the pistil and manually jerks his cock in, crushing and grinding the head against her internal stigma until the Mandrygaia shrieks and pulls him close. His ball of swollen flash _pops_ inside with a squelch of the skin smacking against semen-covered tissue. Nalis _squeals_ and clings to him as he thrashes and humps every drop into her.

It feels heavenly to Z’skuy’thwei. He hopes the same for the Mandrygaia.

Eventually, he stills with his cock locked inside her pistil. Z'skuy'thwei purrs in satisfaction; he rubs the side of his mask against her head.

 _“The seeds are fertilized,”_ Nalis whispers after a time. She remains beneath the Yautja, pinned by his larger frame yet not attempting to move. Nalis exhales when Z’skuy’thwei strokes several tubular-like mucilage glands speckling her torso. She moans softly and drapes her legs around his waist. The flowers on her head twist to 'look' Z'skuy up and down, stopping at where his pelvis locks with her pistil. Nalis hums, _“It is—It is time for you to receive them, blessed Hunter. You must plant them across this green planet."  
_

“Plant… I forgot about that part.” Z’skuy’thwei clicks. The man pulls out of the Mandrygaia when his cock goes soft. He grunts and sits upright. “Where do you want me?”

He doesn’t get a reply for a bit, as Nalis is busy concentrating on cleaning up her pistil using some of _his_ pelts. Given the Mandrygaia’s appeal—and delicious flavor—Z’skuy’thwei does not complain. He admires the sight, then stills when Nalis reaches a hand underneath her pistil and fingers several glands. She moans as her claw-tipped fingers grind against swollen lumps. The ‘glands’ begin to throb and a deep, indulgent aroma wafts through the thick air, bringing a new wave of _sweetness_ with it.

Z’skuy’thwei’s cock begins to twitch. He swallows and watches the glands detach from the pistil’s base, revealing themselves as no glands at all but rather thick, girthy _stamen_ with swelling bulges at the end excreting a clear white fluid.

He decides to climb to his hands and knees. He doesn’t know what to expect, whether the Mandrygaia will lay the seeds down his throat and into his stomach for him to partially digest and crap out over several days, or if the stamen will hold him still while Nalis' pistil delivers each seed to his intestines directly. He gets his answer when the stamen, now four in number, caress him. One presses his face down into the bed, two spread his ass for the Mandrygaia to examine, and a fourth probes at the man’s sphincter.

He has not received in a long time, but he is horny enough to take anything the alien throws at him.

She is slow, carefully caressing the Yautja’s toned ass, torso, and back. Nilas murmers appreciatively as her pistil rubs against the man’s crack, occasionally bumping into his growing erection. Pre dribbles out of Z’skuy’thwei’s cock. He exhales sharply when Nilas begins fondling each ass cheek with rough, textured hands. The sharpness of her claws leaves occasional puncture wounds. He hisses and bucks his hips when her claws dip to his sphincter and massage his hole.

 _“Blessed hunter, I cannot thank you enough for offering to plant these seeds,”_ the Mandrygaia utters, sincere in every word. The stamen around her arm releases, only to join the one at his clenched sphincter. _“I understand you are nervous. Please relax—I can stop if you feel this is no longer adequate for one of your caliber, Hunter.”_

He is nervous, but he wants to fuck more than anything else. In fact, the man has become overwhelmed by the thought of the Mandrygaia pressing every seed into his rear, filling him to the brim and then some. Already, Z’skuy’thwei fails to thrust his hips at her. He snarls when she hesitates.

“I came here for pleasure,” Z’skuy’thwei growls. “This is part of the... experience. I will have them." _  
_

He curses and squirms when two stamen slip past his ring of muscle. The tentacle-like appendages open him up and begin to stretch him, dripping with a substance that fills the Yautja with heat. He moans and throws his head back, hands gripping the pelts tightly as the normally dominant Elite is reduced to a needy hole wanting to be filled. His face burns in his submission but he soon loses himself in his groans and whimpers. In seconds, Nalis has both _stamen_ thrusting into him. The two appendages twist as his fist once did inside her: demanding full subservience and nothing less as the stamen slap his his inner walls and grind against each other.

It burns. His ass _burns_ in pain. He knows he is being stretched to the very limits of his preparations. He knows his poor puckered sphincter wants to rip or tear from the girth inside him, from how stuffed he is by Nalis' stamen, but Z’skuy’thwei holds clenches his teeth and holds off on the pain. He focuses on the pleasure, on the waves of white-hot heat taking him whenever the stamen slams against his prostate. The gland nestled inside his anus is stimulated relentlessly, to the point the stretch fades to the back of his mind and he moans and gasps in sharp spikes of bliss.

What is two stamen becomes three just as he begins climbing the cliff to pleasure. It edges him toward an earth-shattering climax, but the burn returns anew under the presence of the third stamen. Z'skuy'thwei throws his head back and exhales. He loosens a pained noise and his hips instinctively buck to meet the stamen's thrusts. There is no mercy, only relentless pleasure and pain. It grows when the fourth stamen joins in, all four now demanding refuge inside his ass. Z'skuy howls and writhes underneath the overstimulating appendages. He feels Nalis rub his ass and whisper encouraging words, but they become lost in his growing pants. 

"So _—So much,"_ the Elite chokes out. He doesn't dare ask to stop, it is the furthest thing from his mind when the stamen wriggle and snap against his prostate. His bruised gland asphyxiates him in a haze of pained glory. He thinks, breathes, and worships the four stamen through his cold sweats and beating hearts. When the stamen begin drilling against his prostate, it pushes Z'skuy over the line of unspeakable euphoria, into the vivacious, intimate connection he seeks.

His back arches as he orgasms, screaming the cry of release while his body twitches and shudders on the bed. The stamen continue their ministrations until his cock finishes spewing every drop of semen over himself, coating his abdomen and legs. His cock aches enough for the Yautja to moan in pain. Finally, after he is spent on the bed, do the stamen retract.

The stamen pull out slowly, one-by-one, each bringing brief pain to his throbbing, sore sphincter. His muscles clench weakly in protest when the last leaves. A newfound emptiness filling the man. He pants heavily while Nalis rubs his ass again. _“You are beyond recognition, blessed Hunter, to accept all of me no matter how they stretch you. The Gods... They bless me with your presence. Your will and desire to plant the seeds will be remembered across generations of Mandrygaia!"  
_

“They better,” Z’skuy’thwei grits his teeth. He exhales when Nalis applies the familiar sensation of nectar to his ass. It begins building new heat in the man. He clicks weakly, “Do it, _now._ Before my energy is depleted.”

He groans when her pistil prods his anus. The protrusion pushes inside and begins invading, filling him in a way he has not been filled before. The _stamen_ had phallus-like shapes, but the pistil is far from a phallus. It has a tampered, budded end, but quickly widens into a smooth, monstrous girth at the base. Z’skuy’thwei shivers when the pistil stretches his hole _wide_. He thrashes and bucks his hips against the pistil, desperate for sweet, wonderful friction, but finding _none_.

“How many?” Is all he can choke ou _._

 _“Five-two seeds, Hunter,”_ Nilas hums. She massages his back. _“Blessed Hunter, if you cannot take them all—It is fine to—”_

The Elite hisses softly. "I can _—_ I _will_ take them all."

When the first one comes, it is small. It is ejected from the pistil with a groan on Nasil’s end. The seed travels through the pistil in a series sharp clenches until it _shoots_ into the depths of Z’skuy’thwei’s rear. He shakes.

Then Nasil whines and whimpers, and Z’skuy’thwei realizes not every seed is as small as the first. He soon joins the Mandrygaia in trembling and keening weakly as the pistil passes a massive seed deep into his bowels. After that, every seed is agony. None spare him relief as the sizes differ from smooth but large to jagged and thorny. Though he doesn’t feel each pass through his already stretched sphincter, Z’skuy’thwei croaks and trembles whenever one grinds into his prostate. He climaxes twice before becoming a whimpering mess of overstimulated nerves. Each seed drags cries from his body. He does not sob, but he lowers his head submissively as more and more seeds pass.

His groin feels numb but painful when it is over. He doesn’t look different, but he struggles to roll unto his back once Nalis pulls her pistil out of him. Z’skuy’thwei collapses into the pelts with exhaustion.

His abdomen feels bloated. Swollen. His ass hurts. He groans when Nalis begins rearranging pelts around him, making him comfortable with his legs spread and body bare for her to see and monitor.

 _“Do you want me to wait here until you are ready plant them, blessed Hunter?"_ The Mandrygaia offers. At his stiff nod, Nalis goes on. " _May I fetch you substance? A drink?”"_

Z’skuy’thwei’s throat aches. He throws his head back and clenches his teeth when a cramp rifles his body. His back muscles ache horribly; the seeds shift inside him uncomortable, with several jamming his bruised, swollen prostate. He trembles from the sensations. When he can think again, the man glances at Nalis and considers her offer. A thought comes to mind, one that leaves his maw salivating behind his nectar-strewn mask.

“There is something,” he clicks deeply, already feeling calmer at the thought of what he wants to soothe his pain. “Your nectar."

 _"That is not nectar, Hunter."_ Nalis sounds amused. The hollow quality of her voice is more obvious than ever. She lays down next to him, her smaller, leafy form resting against him and caressing his flesh. _"It is sap. It does not come from a flower."_

"I want it." Z'skuy'hwei huffs when the Mandrygaia angles her head at his, as if staring at him.

Nalis chuckles, _"My blessed Hunter, I would be honored to fill you with every drop I can offer."_


	2. planting seeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mostly fluff  
> z'skuy needs some support and nalis is there to provide it  
> next chapter is a return to some smut, but for now there is nice fluff. sappy fluff. yes.

He knows he is in over his head when the cramps do not leave. Z’skuy’thwei hears Nalis apologize profusely for not realizing certain seed shapes might render themselves stuck when trying to push them out. Much of the day following the initial fertilization process is a pile of agony for the resilient Yautja. He is uncomfortably filled, far from pleasure or comfort. He cannot make to stand, and he barely keeps down any food or water brought to him. He cannot bathe or relieve himself on his lonesome.

There is nothing on his mind but to plant the _damn_ seeds.

At least the Mandrygaia at his side is devoted to her duties. She is the saving grace in the situation; anything he needs, the alien scampers off to get. She soon becomes well-acquainted with the ins and outs of his ship, to the point Z’skuy’thwei half-wonders in his partial lucidity if she might be capable of flying such a thing.

 _M-di._ He thinks, eyes clenched shut when another vicious cramp passes. His legs tremble as a seed pod pushes against him from the inside. _Pauk. Pauk. Another one._

Only twelve seeds have been ejected thus far, and each placed in a prepared pot brought onboard by Nalis. She has a tender touch when retrieving stuck seeds, never pushing him more than what he can handle in one sitting. When he needs someone to hold unto and grasp, when he needs a comfort in his moments of vulnerability, the Mandrygaia gives him her thorn-tipped hand and tells him sweet songs of admiration and honor. She speaks of her village, a humble place within a forest of buzzing gnats and engorged leeches. She speaks of Balot’s beautiful green skies and how they shift teal come the season of _Leavening_ , a period of growth where new plants rises and flourish.

Sometimes, she reminds him of his actual mate, Kwei-nan’ku. She rubs shapes into his flesh, she traces the outline of his muscles and contour of his scales, and she kindly massages his abdomen and squeezes his glutes when a seed fails to eject. When Z’skuy’thwei begins to moan in pain and shake on his bed, the Mandrygaia snaps to attention.

 _“Another one? Already?”_ Nalis breathes aloud, through her mouth lacking teeth. The flowers atop her head shift and shudder when Z’skuy’thwei hisses. _“Oh, blessed Hunter, you are—You sustain new life! So much new life… You are capable of this—”_

“Stuck,” is Z’skuy’thwei’s response. He groans as Nalis helps him roll unto his back. She spreads his legs to assess the situation.

His posterior feels raw and ragged despite the dose of serum he instructed Nalis to inject into him the day before. The next seed eagerly rubs against his sphincter from the inside, as if the damn thing is alive and ready to burst free. It cannot; the bumpy edges catch on the ring of muscle and refuse to go further. It protrudes slightly, visible from the outside but stubborn as a clam refusing to open. 

_“Blessed Hunter—Hold on, be still, I will aid you,”_ Nalis caresses his masked face. She drops her hands and rubs his locs sweetly before dipping away and out of the room.

If the cramps weren’t _so damn painful_ he might find the gesture endearing.

But the cramps get worse. Z’skuy’thwei bites into his own arm to stifle a scream while he waits. After several minutes, Nalis runs back with a bucket of pink paste. Her many legs fold beneath her and push his legs further apart; Nalis sits between his legs, pats his thighs, and begins scooped out cell-augmenting lubricant. She says, _“Blessed Hunter, please trust me with your body.”_

“I trust you,” Z’skuy’thwei chokes out. He feels cold sweats break across his body.

He begins writhing when the paste is applied in globs of fuchsia. He feels the seed pod shift as if protesting inside him. The seed jabs him and prompts another wave of cramps to tear through his body. Nalis stops applying the lubricant just shy of penetrating his sphincter. Her hands fall to his thighs and she speaks gently, _“Deep breaths, Hunter. Deep breaths. You are one of the Blessed. You will emerge victorious from this!”_

“Easier said than— _Pauk!_ ” Z’skuy’thwei begins shouting and cursing. His hips writhe violently in pain; he bucks them into the air, trying and failing to make the damn seed pod inside him come out. Nalis rubs his thighs soothingly, coaxing the agitated and pained Yautja back to a calmer state. It is difficult not to focus on Nalis when the sweet scent of her _sap_ wafts through the air.

The man tries to only think of her and his mate as he feels her thorn-tipped fingers move to his sphincter. Nalis narrates her actions as she goes, giving him an update on everything she does while slowly pushing one finger inside. The cell-augmenting effects of the paste go into effect immediately. The pleasure shoots through his body and Z’skuy’thwei moans in much-needed bliss as the Mandrygaia carefully hooks one finger around the seed pod. She puts another finger in, scraping the temporary nerves along the ring of muscle in the process. Z’skuy’thwei sees white and arches his back.

 _“Are you alright? How are you handling things, Z’skuy?”_ She says his name so gently. 

“Fine. I am fine.” Z’skuy’thwei refuses to admit weakness in front of the Mandrygaia. He grits his teeth, but a choked gasp of pain slips out. Nalis ceases her movements until Z’skuy’thwei begins panting from the meager pleasure he finds in the moment. He clicks at her to continue.

 _“I’ll be gentle,”_ Nalis informs him, her toothless mouth pulling up at the edges. _“Deep breaths, blessed Hunter. The Gods look upon you with favor, for not only have you proven yourself to them, but you have chosen to plant these seeds and bring the next generation of Mandrygaia upon the worlds. You will not be defeated by an act of planting seeds.”_

It flatters his ego. Z’skuy’thwei briefly feels pride well up inside him. He groans but nods, then shuts his eyes again. “They better sing songs in my name.”

 _“I will make sure of that.”_ Nalis’ vine-like legs curl around the man’s ankles and stroke his calves. It is sensual, in a way that Z’skuy’thwei melts into.

His body feels the pain of Nalis working, of the Mandrygaia stretching him slowly and thoroughly, of a _stamen_ detaching from her retracted _pistil_ and slipping inside where it can easily maneuver the seed pod and guide it out of his rectum. It pops out with a _squelch_ of pink paste and excretion. Z’skuy’thwei roars loudly, lost in the relief that comes from the seed’s absence. His cramps fade and catches his breath, while Nalis carries the seed to a prepared pot. He hears her bury it and pray for its growth before returning to his side and coaxing him up. Z’skuy’thwei half-glares at her, wanting nothing more than to collapse and sleep the day away.

 _“Lean on me, I will take you to your bathing chamber,”_ The Mandrygaia hums in her hollow voice.

She is strong enough to support his body weight the long trek. Nalis compliments his every step, urging him onward and helping him sit in a tub of bubbling water while she fetches soap. She returns to his side but stays out of the water, with exception to a single vine to move soap across his scales. Z’skuy’thwei exhales and relaxes in the bath. He shuts his eyes. His bio-mask feels clammy on his face, but he refuses to take it off.

“Do most… Mandrygaia,” Z’skuy’thwei struggles to speak, occupied with how good the water is on his flesh. “Do the hosts for fertilized seeds—Do they… Usually… Have trouble with this?” His hand vaguely gestures at his pelvis.

Nalis rubs soap against his abdomen. She is quiet for a time.

 _“No. Most plant seeds with ease.”_ Nalis moves the vine-leg holding the soap to his chest. _“But most are not Yautja, blessed Hunter. Most are not chosen by the Gods.”_

Z’skuy’thwei’s throat rumbles in satisfaction. He enjoys her words.

 _“Perhaps there is something different about the proteins your kind provides me,”_ Nalis contemplates aloud. _“The seeds are bigger than normal—”_

“It is _my_ seed which fertilized them.” Z’skuy’thwei puffs his chest up briefly. He exhales into his mask. “They will not be hybrids.”

 _“Mandrygaia cannot be Yautja. The seeds will not grow into hybrids of our species’.”_ Nalis’ thorn-tipped fingers gently stroke his hair. She occasionally rubs the side of her thorns against his scalp, where his thick hair follicles protrude from his flesh. The flesh is extra sensitive there. Z’skuy’thwei begins purring and leaning into her touch.

“Mm,” Z’skuy’thwei grunts when the Mandrygaia’s vine-like legs join him in the water. The vines press against his body and massage each inch of flesh, passing soap from the first vine to the next. He moans softly when the bark-like texture of several vines caresses his groin. “—Nalis—”

 _“Is this alright?”_ She intones.

“Cetanu— _Yes_ ,” The Yautja groans and melts under the Mandrygaia’s touch. “Do others—Like you—Know how to do this?”

 _“Some of us do,”_ Nalis explains to him while her vines massage his sheathe. The cartilage swells from her touch. _“My species is closer to a… common sea horse. The equivalent of a bearer to you—The ‘bearers’ of my species are fertilized by others, then transfer the seeds to ‘sirers’ for planting. The ‘sirers’ of my species carry the seeds and plant them over the course of weeks. Mandrygaia possess a special pocket for holding seeds.”_

Her touch wavers. She draws several vines back. Z’skuy’thwei clicks at her, puzzled.

 _“…Most Mandrygaia find eligible Mandrygaia to carry the seeds. None of my kind wanted to assist me this fertilization cycle,”_ Nalis’ face flowers face away from the Yautja. _“Blessed Hunter, it is not right for me to share my woes with someone of your stature—”_

“Your seeds are inside me.” Z’skuy’thwei scoffs. “Share your woes, Nalis.”

 _“You don’t… mind?”_ The Mandrygaia hesitates.

Z’skuy’thwei decides action is better than words. He grabs the dozens of vine-like legs of the alien and pulls her into the tub. Nalis writhes and yelps when she surfaces. Z’skuy’thwei tugs her into his lap. He overshadows her with his larger form. Her leaves jab and scratch his pelt, but the man is not bothered by it. He rubs his mask against her foliage-adorned head. “I don’t.”

* * *

The moment in the bath sparks something feral and frenzied in the man. He knew he was drawn to the Mandrygaia’s sweet sap, but now he cannot get enough of her. The Yautja spends every waking moment outside of cramp-induced planting fucking the Mandrygaia wildly in different parts of his ship. The first time is awkward until the Mandrygaia demonstrates how sturdy her pistil is, then he is taking her, and taking her again, until the two cannot clutch the other tight enough. It is an erratic and needy kind of sex, an intercourse which ties the two together intimately in body, mind, and spirit. It is exactly what he needs in his mate’s absence.

The only difference between the two’s initial meeting and the frenzied copulation now is that he cannot finish inside her. Nalis makes the consequences clear: fertilizing the pistil again will produce another batch of seeds, which his body cannot physically endure until he finishes planting the current ones in his gut. The two compromise with her mouth; she is eager to taste him no matter how callously he thrusts down her throat.

The seeds continue to come. Over the week since first meeting Nalis, he plants a total of two-six seeds, with each transferred _immediately_ to a pot prepared by Nalis. She lavishes attention on each, then lavishes attention on _him_ , taking care to make him feel as important and part of the process as she is. It is a nice change from the majority of Yautja bearers he has slept with. Outside of M-di-guan-Luar-ke, Z’skuy’thwei cannot remember a Yautja bearer who saw him as anything but a means of impregnation. His pleasure is not valued by most bearers of his species, only his seed and whether it is worthy of producing pups and furthering bloodlines.

He relaxes more around her with each day cycle. By the time a week passes, Z’skuy’thwei begins a routine of clutching the Mandrygaia to his chest when he needs to rest. He regularly purrs and touches her the way he remembers Kwei-nan’ku touching _him_. His attachment deepens, to the point he begins contemplating sending a message to Kwei-nan’ku asking if he is interested in taking a Mandrygaia along, or if Nalis is interested in traveling with Blessed hunters in the first place.

“Let me tell you about my mate,” Z’skuy’thwei speaks one night after he successfully plants three seeds. The total planted rises to thirty-one. He is still nude, not bothering to dress from where he sits up on his bed.

Nalis finishes planting the last of the seeds. Her face flowers shift and twist to peer in his direction. _“I remember… You mentioned his name to me within the last two-four hours. Kwei-nan’ku, blessed Hunter.”_

“Sei-i.” He clicks with delight at the thought. He misses his mate badly. _Badly._ If not for Nalis, Z’skuy’thwei imagines he’d have broken his dick or hand or _both_ from how bad his needs are. When Kwei-nan’ku returns, the man anticipates mating him relentlessly for at _least_ a day cycle. Longer, if Kwei-nan’ku has prepared himself for the two’s reunion.

 _Maybe… Kwei-nan’ku would be open to… To being held and pauked by stamen… While I worship him…_ His mind goes back to the retractable, slippery tentacle-like appendages and the soppy white liquid they excrete. He looks at Nalis and squints from beyond his mask.

She pats the soil of one pot down and stands. Her dozens of vine-like legs trail like an elaborate dress train as she returns to the side of his bed. He clicks at her. “Nalis. My mate is not unlike me. We hold preference for all genders… We enjoy… dabbling… in what others of my kind consider distasteful.”

 _“In what they consider… distasteful.”_ Nalis stills.

“Yautja... We wish to prove ourselves worthy of producing new offspring. Most view relations with another sentient species damning,” Z’skuy’thwei is careful in his explanation, knowing how easily it can be misconstrued. “Kwei-nan’ku and I do not share that viewpoint.”

“ _Blessed Hunter, you do not need to explain yourself to me! I know we are of two different worlds—”_ Nalis begins, but Z’skuy’thwei huffs at her to stop. She falls quiet.

“If he expresses interest—Would you seek to repeat the fertilization cycle with him?” Z’skuy inquires.

Nalis quickly nods. _“Most Mandrygaia sprouts do not live past their first year. High rates of reproduction are essential for population growth and expansion.”_

“I think he would… appreciate the process. When he returns from his Hunt,” the Elite clicks calmly. “I wondered if—If you would consider indulging another blessed Hunter? If he consents—He is an honorable man, Nalis, I trust him, and I do not trust easily. He is an honorable man.”

 _“You speak highly of him, blessed Hunter,”_ The Mandrygaia contemplates. _“Tell me more. I would… It would be an honor, truly, to have two blessed Hunters fertilize my seeds.”_

“And, if not,” Z’skuy’thwei pauses. “He is good company. The two of you can enjoy talking while I deal with the rest of these.”

The man puts a hand over his abdomen. He balks when his body begins to cramp, as if his body instinctively knows he speaks of the seed pods inside. The man shudders and grits his teeth as the cramp grows. He toughs it out; the man reminds himself the seed pods are _nowhere_ near the size of a pup’s head, and the seed pods are far less likely to cause the kind of problems birthing a pup or pups brings. Z’skuy’thwei curses his body anyways as the pain grows. He curls up on his side in a ball and clutches his abdomen, willing the seed pods inside to _stop_ _paukin’ moving_.

* * *

He gets the chance to tell Nalis about Kwei-nan’ku over the following week. He speaks on the man’s strength and honor, on how the two first met after their respective chivas. He feels pride when Nalis compliments the two on passing such an _arduous_ task.

 _“How long did it take for one of you to engage the other, blessed Hunter?”_ Nalis is busy cleaning him up after he plants a seed pod when the question comes out.

Z’skuy’thwei, covered in cold sweats from exertion and physical strain, can _barely_ open his eyes to look at her. He gazes at her and pauses. The memory fills him with warmth. “An hour. He is one of the few to pin me to the floor. He is not usually… The one who gives. But that day,” the man grits his teeth; he feels heat coil in his abdomen. “He _gave_ me everything I could ask for.”

 _“You are an imposing warrior. Strong and honorable. Blessed by the gods,”_ Nalis rubs his arms with her long, lanky vine legs. Her thorn-tipped hands stroke his chest. _“Did he enrapture you?”_

“I couldn’t sit right for a week,” The Elite clicks his mandibles in laughter, noise slightly muffled due to his mask. “He is far stronger than he looks. Let me push him around once he discovered his appetite for submitting. We were younger, then. Freshly Blooded.”

 _“Things are different now?”_ Nalis inquires.

“We push each other around. Wrestle often. Spar. Pauk. He wins as much as I lose. Which is not often,” Z’skuy’thwei chuckles and shakes his head. “He is good at using a spear. I prefer my _dah’kte_ … Our spars last hours. Almost as long as he lasts beneath me.”

 _“Does he carry your seeds? Or,”_ Nalis hesitates, her face flowers shuddering in search of words. _“How do you handle producing progeny, Z’skuy’thwei?”_

“He is not capable of carrying my children, not with the reproductive organs on his body. It would require an invasive surgical procedure, and he has yet to express interest in the idea.” The man answers.

 _“How do you continue your bloodline?”_ The Mandrygaia speaks with a sincere curiosity.

Z’skuy’thwei clicks softly. “There is a… huntress who grants us the honor and privilege of seeding her on occasion. Through her, we have sired many pups. Five pups who have gone on to become Blooded _sain’ja_. Several in training. One is expected to go through his _chiva_ in a cycle.”

 _“Chiva…”_ Nalis repeats the word with awe.

The Yautja rumbles with pride; he is pleased with her response. “Kwei-nan’ku and I are proud of all our pups, but there is a level of recognition afforded Blooded members of a clan. Our clan has a dark history. Long ago, it was almost destroyed by the actions of those who lurk in the shadows. _Gahn’tha-cte_ was nigh wiped out, save for a handful of warriors and a single Elder without honor. For a pup from my clan to pass a _chiva_ and mark their body with the _thwei_ of the hard meat… It is an honor beyond words.”

_“You carry a deep history on your shoulders, blessed Hunter.”_

“Are Mandrygaia not the same?” The man quirks a hairless brow.

Nalis leans down until the succulent petals of the flowers adorning her face tickle his crested forehead. Z’skuy’thwei feels a plume of heat in his gut. He holds himself back, too tired to properly rut the Mandrygaia’s mouth.

 _“We have our history, but it is with plants. We are creators of life, blessed Hunter. Not simply in seeds, but in the artificial production of flora. It occasionally takes us to haunting places and horrifying figures whose influence is feared than respected. Once upon a time,”_ her toothless mouth breaths out against his eyebrow ridges. _“We made a deal with a clan who hid from the light. We created something marvelous, derived off the perfect prey and beautiful specimen you call hard meat. We created a plant capable of mutating species in cruel and tepid ways. We named it Phanes, and we gifted it to a clan not unlike yours.”_

Z’skuy’thwei’s eyes darken. He looks away. “…You possess a dark side after all, Nalis. It is suspected the Phanes root was used in the incident that exterminated most life in Gahn’tha-cte.”

 _“Forgive us, blessed Hunter, I know the Mandrygaia did not make life for the purpose of destroying others! It is unfortunate circumstances twisted and the clan who hides from the light used it as a weapon.”_ Nilas says quietly.

“I don’t hold it against you. You are not a just opponent for my furor.” The man grimaces. 

He feels the sharp stab of pain shoot through his abdomen. Z’skuy’thwei begins to curse. He lays back and spreads his legs into position, exposing his bare groin and the curve of his ass for Nalis to monitor. She gasps loud enough to draw his attention. The man balks at the sight of the Mandrygaia releasing him, rising to her dozens of vine-like legs and feet, and bolting from the bedchamber.

The pain increases until cold sweats once more dot the Yautja’s body. He clenches his teeth, grips fistfuls of alien pelts in his hands, and squeezes his eyes shut to block out the pain. The pain and pressure in his lower abdomen only increases until it hits the point he cannot keep quiet. Z’skuy’thwei begins to grunt and groan. He tries to force it down, to hide the weakness he sees in himself in his reactions, but his body refuses. A spike of pain shocks him enough for the Yautja to belt aloud in agony. He scarcely registers Nalis’ many footsteps running back to his bedchamber, much less the hot cloth she applies to his abdomen.

Z’skuy cannot think of anything but the horrible existence of the seed pods and their exact locations within him. He hears Nalis list what she intends to do to aid him, and though he fervently nods, the man remains in a hazy state of pain which only deepens as time goes on. When pink lubricant is pushed inside his sphincter, the man arches his back and howls.

He wails when sharp fingers follow. Nalis moves slowly, with a gentleness he’s begun associating with her, but there is nothing pleasant about how she digs her fingers into him in search of seed pods. There is a cluster trying to plant together, and Z’skuy’thwei cannot move them forward with his muscles no matter his squirming. He curses when Nalis pulls out the first of the seed pods. He pants wildly and dry heaves when she retrieves the second.

The relief of being freed from the large pods is indescribable. His nerves are on fire, both overstimulated and weeping in pain from how his sphincter has been handled. He knows there are more. There are so many seeds left inside him, waiting and lurking for the chance to pop out, but for now the lubricant applied gives him enough temporary pleasure points to distract him from the agony.

“Nalis,” He begs her for something. The Yautja suddenly falls weak against her, exhausted. “Nalis—I need… I _require_ your assistance.”

 _“How can I aid you?”_ Nalis tenses, alert.

“I am in pain,” he growls and shudders. “I need—I need you to—Relieve me—"

The hunter moans weakly as Nalis rubs his back. She hums into his pelt. _“Oh, my blessed Hunter… You are… So good, so kind… To aid my kind in populating… I will ease your suffering. I will bring you pleasure. On your back, now…”_

It is how he winds up on his bad, on his back, knees spread and drawn up to reveal his are pelvis. The man pants heavily, cock erect and twitching at the end, as he watches Nalis climb between his legs and reach for him. She hesitates before, looking at him for one last confirmation, but after he nods, the Mandrygaia takes hold of his shaft. Her fingers feel strange and uneven but so, _so_ good as the Mandrygaia strokes him. Nalis hums in her strange, detached way while she works his shaft.

Warmth pools in the man’s body. He strains to catch his breath, lost in the sensations. He whimpers, increasingly submissive, as the Mandrygaia prods the slit of his cock with one long, thin thorn. “Nalis— _Agh!”_

The thorn dips deeper. It is strange to have something pierce him this way, nothing like being mounted in the rear or taken in the throat. Z’skuy curses softly and rolls his hips. He feels the burn, the stretch, but just as quickly as it begins: it stops, the Mandrygaia pulling her thorny talon out and leaning down to extend a wriggling tongue.

She’s a beautiful creature: covered in bark, leaves scrapping his pelvis, no eyes to be seen, but she becomes more and more appealing and succulent as her long, not-quite-flesh tongue wraps around the man’s cock. Z’skuy’thwei grabs her head by the leaves and groans as she sucks him inside the toothless mouth. Her tongue attacks and ensnares his shaft with need, worshiping it in erotic coils around the head. The Mandrygaia begins to bob her head as her long tongue claims his shaft, working Z’skuy’thwei into a bleating pant.

The Elite feels like a divinity. For all the discomfort and pain in his loins, for all the seeds yet to pop out, he moans and thrusts himself forward, into the mouth salivating for him, where Z’skuy finds the tide of pleasure calling him. He thrusts weakly into the Mandrygaia’s mouth, growing more and more fervent to connect with her and bless her with his seed.

Her hand drops to his rear. In the throes of sucking and bathing his cock with her tongue, the Mandrygaia’s finger prods his swollen, sensitive hole. His sphincter gives under her finger. She thrusts it gently into the temporary nerve endings, spurning greater pleasure than before. Z’skuy’thwei tenses and yowls as the pressure in his body peaks.

In a roar of sweet release, in cries of submission and trembling, shaking limbs, Z’skuy’thwei orgasms into the woman’s mouth. Nalis remains steady as she drinks him. Her tongue massages every drop from his shaft while her fingers tenderly rub his inner walls and sphincter. Z’skuy’thwei bucks and wails as he comes off his high.

For a moment, the pain recedes, overtaken by the soothing bliss of orgasm.

He doesn’t realize his knot is in the woman’s throat until he tries to pull out. Z’skuy’thwei curses from the overstimulation, the ache shooting sparks through his groin as he lays back down. His mind is a rush of thoughts but all he can muster is, “It will… I’ll be a moment. Deflating.”

The Mandrygaia’s leaves twitch and shudder. Her talon-tipped hands rub his thighs and abdomen soothingly, as if to say _it’s okay._

And, in a way, it is.

Because at that moment, a soft ping comes from Z’skuy’thwei’s wrist computer. He glances at it, eyes widening behind his mask. He clicks a command at the gauntlet and the notification comes up in his bio-mask’s optics. The message is simple but it means the world to the Elite.

_Headed home._

Kwei-nan’ku, his beloved mate, is returning from a Hunt _early_. Z’skuy’thwei feels warmth shoot through his body. He almost leaps for joy, only to remember the Mandrygaia is _still_ stuck on his barbed cock. He chirps at her, “My mate is on his way back.”

Nalis’ leaves sway merrily at the words. When Z’skuy softens and finally slips free of her mouth, the Mandrygaia wipes herself, sits upright, and replies, _“Two blessed hunters in a holy union… I am honored to know of this.”_

“I want you to meet him, and him to meet you,” Z’skuy’thwei breathes aloud, nodding once. “You have kept me company during his absence—An honorable act.”

 _“I would be honored, blessed Hunter! But I must ask: will you remove me from this vessel once he arrives? I am not opposed to leaving you two, as I only seek your jubilance and pleasure, but does he have experience in planting seeds? Will you be taken care of should a seed become stuck?”_ The Mandrygaia voices each thought slowly, with a deep concern rooted in the words.

“Unless you… desire otherwise,” the Elite grunts, beginning to regain composure. “—You must stay. Allow my mate and I to call you a guest until the seeds are planted.”

 _“You would permit that, Hunter?”_ Nalis asks.

Z’skuy’thwei nods. “It would be my honor.”


	3. not so tough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this wraps up this little story !!!!  
> smut and fluff and feels ! These three get along well.

_“Gently, now…”_ A bark-covered hand massages his abdomen.

Z’skuy’thwei shuts his eyes and exhales. In the days since his mate returned, many wonderful things have taken place. His mate and him reunited. Kwei-nan’ku shares news of a territory dispute postponing the hunt, giving him the rest of the mating season to spend with his mate.

Kwei meets Nalis, and aside from initially laughing hysterically at learning Z’skuy’thwei regular receives from the Mandrygaia in bed, the three get along beautifully well. Kwei-nan’ku approaches Nalis with the idea of installing a neural chip with translation software. Nalis accepts, and at last the language barrier fades and the need for bio-masks in the bedchamber departs. It opens up many doors and leads to moments like… this.

He lays nude on the bed, with a Mandrygaia at his side and a warm, muscular man behind him. His mate is equally bare, pressed against his back and curving into him. It isn’t usual for him to receive, but the days since Kwei-nan’ku’s arrival have been unusual. The Elite shudders as his mate rubs his cock up and down Z’skuy’thwei’s cheeks.

“I’ll go slow,” Kwei-nan’ku tells Nalis.

 _“Thank you, blessed hunter,”_ the Mandrygaia remains at Z’skuy’thwei’s side, monitoring and ready to step in if necessary. As not all seed pods are planted, she lingers in the paired Yautja’s company to keep an eye on their progress.

For now, Z’skuy’thwei finds relief in the touch of others. He leans into his mate’s chest, his locs squished between the other man’s muscles and his own. Kwei-nan’ku clicks smugly before he nibbles the larger Elite’s neck, showing the man in a wave of tiny bites and licks. He grabs Z’skuy’thwei’s leg and lifts it. The man rubs his cock into Z’skuy’thwei’s perineum; the smooth end glides seamlessly along the sensitive flesh. Z’skuy’thwei pants and shoves his hips toward his mate.

He puckers as the head of his mate’s cock brushes his sphincter. The man groans weakly. _“Kwei…”_

“Normally you have me like this,” his mate remarks, amused. “I forgot how much you melt beneath me—”

“Shut up,” Z’skuy’thwei grunts, only to keen loudly and writhe when Kwei-nan’ku rocks his hips against Z’skuy’s, his cock bumping into the base of the Elite’s shaft.

“Slowly… Slowly…” Kwei-nan’ku urges. The man re-aligns himself with his mate and gingerly presses the tip inside.

Z’skuy’thwei exhales as his mate opens him up. He feels the stretch immediately: a fiery burn of his ass descending as his ring of muscles is penetrated and the rest of him explored. His mate is not the largest cock he’s taken, but Kwei-nan’ku more than makes up for it in length. The pink lube covering his mate’s dick squelches as the force of Kwei-nan’ku’s entry pushes it out. The smooth foreskin rubs and pulls along his innermost walls.

 ** _“Cetanu,”_** Kwei-nan’ku exclaims and gently rocks his hips forward. He lifts Z’skuy’thwei’s leg while slipping inside. Z’skuy’thwei curls his toes and shudders as inch after inch disappears inside his anus. When his mate’s pelvis kisses his own, Z’skuy’thwei whimpers and shakes.

He is _full,_ filled to the brim by the man’s heat. He feels Kwei-nan’ku purr into his back. Z’skuy’thwei groans and relaxes. His entire body is on fire from the stimulation of temporary nerve endings. But as he comes to terms with the bliss of Kwei-nan’ku’s body so entwined with his own, he feels the Mandrygaia shift on the bed next to him. He opens his eyes and stares at her heat signature. Nalis hums quietly while she shifts her thorax to face his cock. Her piston emerges from the hollow between her legs.

 _“Do you mind, blessed hunter, if I were to—If I might—Join your mate? In… having you?”_ The Mandrygaia sounds shy. She is noticeably meeker than before Kwei-nan’ku's return, bashful in a way that is appealing to Z’skuy’thwei.

He likes that about her. He enjoys how she contrasts to both men, with a distinct personality stark when put against his brute strength or Kwei-nan’ku’s relaxed disposition. Her occasional boldness is a decadent touch; the Mandrygaia deeply flatters him in how she seeks out _his_ body.

“Is that a problem?” Z’skuy’thwei chokes out the words when he feels his mate rock gently into his rectum. “Kwei—Kwei! Answer her!”

“I’ll allow her this time. She has proven herself worthy of bedding you,” his mate huffs and squeezes one thigh. “Is it a problem for _you?_ ”

“Will it—Will—It fit? It—Your, ah,” the Yautja trills loudly from a deeper thrust. Kwei-nan’kuy groans and clutches at Nalis’ form for support. “Will it—With—His—”

 _“I believe you can handle it,”_ the Mandrygaia sounds certain of it. He trusts her.

The Yautja grits his teeth and nods. His nerves are frayed from how slowly his mate takes him. “—You will have me, Nalis—Nalis—”

Her hands massage his chest muscles, hovering over where two undeveloped, flat mammalian glands lay. Nalis squeezes the flesh there hard enough for the man to moan. Z’skuy cannot hold in his yowl when his mate bottoms out inside him. He writhes and pants harder. Sly, thorn-tipped fingers join Kwei in holding his leg up. Nalis’ pistil pushes and rubs against his cock. To his disappointment, it does not engulf him.

The Mandrygaia rubs her leaf-covered head against his body while she finds his sphincter. Z’skuy gasps and shakes as the pistil suddenly pierces him and joins Kwei-nan’ku’s cock. He leans back into his purring mate while simultaneously clutching Nalis to his chest. He hears her soft, content hum, and he smells the sweet aroma of nectar, before the pistil sheathes in his body and he submits for the two.

* * *

 _Full._ He is full. He is more than full: overfilling, pouring out, with two great lengths squeezed together inside him. He cannot think of anything but the physical contact of the bodies sandwiching him in leaves and scales. He cannot _breathe_ let alone _think_ of anyone and anything but the pistil and cock penetrating him in union. Z’skuy’thwei pants, ragged and strained, as the two bodies in him slowly shift how he lays on the bed.

He lets the Yautja and Mandrygaia move him as they will. Kwei nuzzles his neck and nips at the soft, exposed flesh while Nalis rolls her hips forward and rubs her engorged pistil against his inner walls and the side of Kwei-nan’ku’s cock. The latter suddenly digs teeth into Z’skuy’s neck; the man hisses in pain and shudders.

“Perfect,” Kwei-nan’ku purrs into Z’skuy’s back. He too begins to rock into the man, working with Nalis to hold Z’skuy’thwei still for the two to mate.

The slow, languid thrusts quickly become torturous. Z’skuy pants and melts into his two mating partner’s grasps, clutching Nalis as if his life depends on it. The Mandrygaia moans lewdly and snaps her hips into him. In a second, the gradual, sensual thrusts become something more primal, more _desperate,_ as the Mandrygaia loses herself to a flurry of frenzied hip rolls and thrusts. Z’skuy’thwei grunts and yowls as Nalis spears him. He begins howling and bucking his hips once Kwei joins the Mandrygaia in the deadly new pace.

Like prey cornered and admitting defeat, Z’skuy’thwei finds he cannot hold out with the two thrusting away into his core. He squeezes his sphincter around the base of the cock and pistil, struggling to hold both in when it feels like they’ll tear out at any moment _._

He mewls at the loud thumps of skin smacking skin; he cannot hold back the cries after both mating partners begin smacking against the sweet spot within his depths. His prostate is engorged in his arousal; he feels so bruised, so pained, so sore, but the flashes of white pleasure whenever Nalis or Kwei-nan’ku strike it is enough to wash away the pain.

It feels like a tightly wound spring. Each second of pleasure increases the pressure. Each thrust forces red hot euphoria to spike in his cock and loins. Not even the discomfort of seed pods remaining inside him can pry the encroaching high from his grasp. Z’skuy’thwei digs claws into Nalis’ arms and whimpers _loudly_ as the latter gasps and orgasms inside him. The pistil shudders and spits out goo-like liquid inside his depths while Kwei-nan’ku continues pumping into him.

Z’skuy’thwei pants as his mate pulls him from Nalis and sinks him over the man’s cock. Z’skuy’thwei howls and bucks backward into a frenzied search for his climax. Kwei-nan’ku grits his teeth and hisses as hips smash hips and the two’s pelvises embrace in disgusting squelches.

“Z’skuy—” Kwei roars, the edge of his own high in his voice. “You—You are—Mine— _Mine_!”

“—Yours!” The Elite whimpers and the man comes in the arms of his lover. His cock throbs and he squirts seed across Nalis’ torso.

Kwei orgasms with a _snarl_ and ejaculates into him, thrusting away until he’s spent.

The three catch their breaths together. Both Yautja purr for each other and Nalis. Eventually, Kwei and Nalis pull out of Z’skuy’thwei. Nalis falls back into her usual humming. The trio relaxes into each other, a mess amid pelts. Though they eventually move to clean up in the washroom and toss soiled pelts in a tub to wash, the three return to the bed with its nest of clean pelts, soon resuming their rest in tandem with each other.

* * *

“What do you think?”

The conversation takes the last week of the mating season. Though the season is expected to end in that time, both Yautja present know there is a discouraging matter to discuss, and it involves the very Mandrygaia the two have become preoccupied with.

Truthfully, Z’skuy’thwei detests the idea of Nalis leaving. He enjoys her company, and he finds himself craving her touch even when his heat begins to wane. It is the sign of a real connection, not simply a lust-fueled relationship like the kind which often pop up across clans during the mating season. Though there is nothing wrong with seeking someone out solely for sex, Z’skuy’thwei cannot view the Mandrygaia that way.

“Neither of us can speak for her.” His mate chirps, the two drying after a luxurious hour-long bath. Kwei-nan’ku looks over his shoulder and clicks, “You know—She is likely to say no. Sei-i? She is not one of us. Her home is Balot.”

“Ki’sei, I _know_ that.” Z’skuy’thwei grunts. He takes a moment to admire his mate’s heat signature, the muscles popping and rippling even when reduced to toned shapes of warm hues.

“Then why ask?” His mate inquires, not missing on how Z’skuy ogles him. Kwei-nan’ku purposely strikes a pose, flexing and showing off.

Z’skuy’thwei fights the rising heat in his abdomen. Now is _not_ the time to rut his mate. Maybe later— _definitely later_ —but the subject of Nalis remains. She is not simply _a_ Mandrygaia. She is Nalis: a kind, eager, enthusiastic individual who is as devoted to her species reproduction as he or Kwei are to their honor. Not Yautja, but close enough.

“Z’skuy’thwei.” Kwei-nan’ku begins pulling on a mesh bodysuit. He growls when Z’skuy doesn’t answer. “Z’skuy’thwei! You cannot take her with us. We cannot make her come with us; she will resent being kidnapped.”

“I was not planning to kidnap her! I would never stoop to such dishonorable ways! S’yuit-de!” Z’skuy’thwei howls the words. The red Yautja exhales only after Kwei-nan’ku begins to purr, the noises infinitely placating his bubbling rage. The man huffs and walks to Kwei’s side, helping him pull on the suit despite knowing full well Kwei-nan’ku is capable of it on his own. Z’skuy’thwei pauses when his mate hands him a suit and begins helping him put it on. “Is it… Appropriate… By the ways of the Mandrygaia species—”

“They are not a monolith.” Kwei clicks briskly. “They are like us, like groups. Individuals. What is right for one may not be right for others. I anticipate her rejecting your invitation, but if she lingers on your mind that much, consider… Asking… Her…”

“Kwei-nan’ku.”

“To…”

“Kwei-nan’ku!”

“Stay…”

“Pauk, do not—”

“With… us.” Kwei-nan’ku clicks merrily, amused. Z’skuy’thwei bumps his hips against the shorter man’s and huffs; it is a sign of everything he intends to do later, something which makes Kwei begin clicking in laughter.

“It is not that easy.” The Elite hisses. “You do not—”

“No, certainly not, I have never, not _once,_ ever held feelings for another lifeform, _by the Payas—”_ Kwei-nan’ku dodges Z’skuy’s attempt to grapple him. The two dance around the other a moment, both falling into a familiar, teasing routine of one chasing after the other. It is only when Z’skuy’thwei finally catches his mate that Kwei finally gives up and lets the man hold him.

Holding him feels wonderful.

“I am glad your Hunt was postponed.” Z’skuy’thwei admits, voice cracking a moment.

“Not so tough, are you?” Kwei-nan’ku grunts. He nuzzles the man’s neck. Z’skuy’thwei eagerly feels the planes of the man’s back, indulging in the man’s proximity. “You don’t need to be _Elite Z’skuy’thwei_ around me.”

“Habit,” Z’skuy’thwei clicks. He purrs deeply for the man when Kwei-nan’ku resumes nuzzling him.

The two enjoy a moment together, locked in each other’s embrace. The initial discussion does not reach a conclusion, but for a second Z’skuy’thwei breathes in the scent of his mate, and everything is okay.

* * *

He gets his answer when he asks, a moment alone with the Mandrygaia thanks to Kwei-nan’ku conveniently ducking out of the common room. It is two weeks after the official ‘end’ to the mating season, past the last seed being planted and his body finally freed of the terrible cramps which plagued him. Z’skuy’thwei dons his armor once more; the gleaming, silvery metal pieces hug his chiseled form, a perfect fit to his polished bio-mask.

And, before him, wrapped up in the most luxurious silks plant fibers can weave, is the root-covered form of Nalis. Her dozens of vine-like legs are sprawled lazily beneath her, folded as if fleshy limbs. The leaves of her head tilt and twist as the Mandrygaia thinks.

 _“Blessed hunter, I appreciate what you have done for my species… The seeds you have planted are cultivating as we speak. The loss of sprouts is minimum thus far. But I…”_ Her leaves dip, as if wilting, but Z’skuy’thwei knows by now it is an expression of sorrow, not of death. Nalis’ voice echoes softly. _“I have a home on Balot, kind Hunter. The season of Leavening, the forests beneath the Great Green which covers our skies… This is the home of the Mandrygaia, and I am one of them.”_

Her three phalanges, each finger tipped in the thorns he’s come to admire, slowly twist and play with the shrubbery-like foliage masking her thorax and torso. The Mandrygaia emits a soft humming noise.

Z’skuy’thwei shuts his eyes. He stiffly nods. “I—I see. _Ki’sei._ The word for… I understand. I agree. _Ki’sei. Ki’sei.”_

Nalis stands, her garments rustling like wind through leaves. She is much shorter than he, but he feels like the small one when he walks over. She puts a hand on his chest, where his veritanium breastplate doesn’t cover. His four hearts beat loudly. Nalis ceases her humming. She pauses. _“—What is the word for embrace, blessed Hunter?”_

_“Chiy’tei.”_

_“Chiy’tei… How blessed I am to experience such chiy’tei in the arms of one so honorable as you,”_ She briefly clutches at the mesh suit, feeling out the thin, netting-like strands as they weave over his muscles. _“Your mate is a lovely man. Handsome, caring, interesting—"_

“He knows,” Z’skuy’thwei blurts out before he can stop himself. He freezes but relaxes when Nalis chuckles. Her empty, dissonant noises are now welcome. He appreciates her quirks. Z’skuy’thwei grimaces and growls, “I—I intend to—Keep my offer open. Should you… Change your mind, and the two of us in this region of space—”

_“Is that alright with your mate?”_

“Kwei-nan’ku could not be clearer how _cjit_ I am at handling this.”

 _“This?”_ Nalis pushes on the question.

Z’skuy’thwei holds his tongue, adamant to the end.

 _“Z’skuy’thwei.”_ She articulates his name well. He can only guess she’s had time to practice from how often she has been with himself or his mate in the bedchamber. Still, it is a nice sound, pleasant to his aural canals and soothing to soak in. _“You do not need to treat this as a goodbye.”_

“It is a farewell,” the Elite rumbles. “Yautja do not shy from acknowledging goodbyes.”

_“If you want to treat it as a goodbye—”_

“I never said that!” The Elite curses. He crosses his arm and glares when Nalis holds her sides and begins rustling.

 _“Blessed Hunter, you are also a funny Hunter. I am not leaving Balot. But you are not barred from returning—Should—Should it interest you,”_ Nalis’ shrubbery dances. _“I will be here. Our species mating seasons intersect a time—”_

“We will return. Both of us.” Kwei-nan’ku cuts in from the doorway. He clicks in laughter at Z’skuy’thwei’s hiss. “Perhaps—More than just the mating season, sei-i? If your species procreates for pleasure—”

“Reproduction is essential to maintaining the Mandrygaia population on Balot, but we do not limit ourselves to only one season of the cycle.” Nalis replies cordially, as if the two discuss the weather.

“Then it is settled. Nalis, we will both be seeing you again.” Kwei-nan’ku walks over to his mate and leans into him, only to cuss and fall over when Z’skuy’thwei steps away and lets him fall to the floor. Kwei catches himself and springs back up, but the two mates growl at one another. Kwei jabs a finger into Z’skuy’thwei’s chest, “How is that necessary?”

“Do not make a fool of me in front of her,” Z’skuy’thwei snarls, trying to be soft and discrete. He isn’t.

Nalis’ leaves sway and shift, following Z’skuy’thwei as the man squares up his mate. Kwei-nan’ku growls in challenge, “You’re a fool on your own! _S’yuit-de!_ You couldn’t speak to her until I got here—”

“Shut up!”

 _“Will you assist in transporting the seeds to my village?”_ Nalis interrupts the conversation before it can devolve into a sparring match. Z’skuy’thwei growls at Kwei-nan’ku and receives a growl in response. The two mates begrudgingly—not so begrudgingly—nod and walk shoulder-to-shoulder to the Mandrygaia.

“We would be happy to—”

“Sei-I, of course—”

Both Yautja wind up replying in unison to Nalis’ request. Kwei-nan’ku clicks in amusement while Z’skuy growls and walks out.

* * *

In the bedchamber, Kwei-nan’ku turns to the plant-like individual. He chirps at her, tone sincere. “I cannot express enough gratitude to you for keeping my mate company in my absence. Should the Hunt have taken long, he would have chased me down and interrupted my pack’s _kv’var_.”

 _“You two are blessed hunters. I am honored to be given a space at the side of one like yourself or Z’skuy’thwei.”_ Nalis bows her head.

“—We are not the same kind, m-di? We don’t share perspective.” At Nalis’ nod, the hunter goes on. “My mate does not open up easily to others. The loss of our clan—”

_“Gahn’tha-cte.”_

“Your pronunciation impresses me.” Kwei-nan’ku pats the Mandrygaia’s shoulder. “Sei-I, the loss of Gahn’tha-cte! A tragedy a hundred times over, the likes interclan conflicts have not seen for many cycles. It was a horrific event. He has not trusted easily since. But he trusts you, he does, and that is… It is deeply telling of his judgement of your character. You are honorable, Nalis. When we visit—We will demonstrate how honorable you are to each of us.”

_“I look forward to your visits, blessed Hunter—”_

“Kwei-nan’ku!” The Yautja clicks calmly. “Address me as _Kwei-nan’ku_. I am Kwei-nan’ku. My mate is Z’skuy’thwei. And you are—”

_“Nalis.”_

“Nalis! Nalis the Mandrygaia, resident of planet Balot.” Kwei-nan’ku affirms. “The next time we take an expenditure to a planet called Balot—We will see you again, Nalis.”

The Mandrygaia’s leaves rustle softly. _“I will wait to welcome you both, Blessed Hunters.”_


End file.
